


Secrets

by AnotherHomosexualMale



Category: Renegades (1989)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Native American Character(s), Requited Unrequited Love, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherHomosexualMale/pseuds/AnotherHomosexualMale
Summary: Buster would hate him if he knew.
Relationships: Buster McHenry/Hank Storm
Kudos: 1





	Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Hell yeah. Cheesy.
> 
> Warning: This short fic features the word "Indian", that nowadays is considered derogatory, but that it's used heavily in the film without the purpose to offend a community (at least I don't think so). So I decided to include it, just because this happens in the late 80's, and it's a work of fiction. But keep in mind that it's not correct to use it when describing someone's heritage in real life.

Hank bites on his lip, bites down the self-loathing as he loses himself.

Hot water splatters across his back as he braces himself against the shower’s slippery tile with one hand. Eyes shut tight, he can hear the rush of the water muffling his gasps and grunts as he continues, unable to stop—

The steam makes everything hazy, or maybe it's just the haze of lust he’s lost himself in as Hank strokes his pulsing, uncut dick, knowing this is wrong, so very wrong but he can’t help himself—

_Buster shirtless. Buster McHenry naked, moaning as Hank kisses him, touches him— their slick skin sliding against one another as they make out— grasping at each other—_

Hank's hand jerked faster and faster as he imagined it:

_Buster pinning him down, making him suck his dick— Oh God—Then he imagined turning the tables on him—him being the one fucking Buster hard into that messy bed of his._

Hank gritted his teeth as his hand flew across his dick— he was so hot, so hard, so close—

 _“Oh—Hank—” Buster would whimper—_ No, wait, that wasn’t right— _“Oh, fuck, Hank!” he would cry as he lost it all—_

That pushed Hank over the edge—he clamped his teeth down to swallow his moan as he spilled all over his hand— the shower wall. His vision went black and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

As he came to, he swayed on the spot before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, his long hair falling over his shoulders as he tried to grasp the fading image of Buster’s cocky smile. Now that it was over, there was nothing left but the shame. Holding his face in his hands, Hank tried not to let it overcome him.

* * *

Halfway across town, it was Buster McHenry in the shower having to muffle his grunts as he imagined the Indian man hovering over him, moaning as Buster fucked his hand faster and faster.

_“My turn, Buster,” and then Hank pushing him back into the memory foam mattress—Hank pounding into him so hard he would see stars. Hank’s face, screwed up in pleasure, blushing hot as he muttered his name over and over again, “Buster—Buster—Buster!”_

“Oh, fuck, Hank!” Buster gasped as he came, and it felt like an eternity for him to come down from his high.

He leaned against the wall of the shower, the water beating down on him now lukewarm. Closing his eyes, as the droplets fell off his lashes, Buster felt a lump in his throat.

“Fuck…”

* * *

Though each in their own, lonely showers, both thought the same—

_He would hate me if he knew._


End file.
